


Picking Up the Pieces

by Riastarstruck



Series: Rias 2016 Bingo Challenge works [5]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Feeding, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstanding, Night-Shift!Rick, Post-Divorce, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Slow Burn, community-service!Daryl, favourite book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-15 05:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7210754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riastarstruck/pseuds/Riastarstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rick works night duty while recovering from the shooting, he becomes friends with Daryl, the young guy working community service as a janitor in lieu of prison time.</p>
<p>"If you found an animal in an alley and it was raining and you approached it, it would try to bite you. But if you could get it inside and feed it and take it somewhere warm, it would follow you forever. He's got that kind of vibe to him." <br/>-Norman Reedus on Daryl Dixon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I kinda cheated using my "Favourite Book" bingo square. It's in there, just... not much.  
> I want to thank everyone on RWG who put up with me complaining and whining about this and thanks so much for the encouragement and support. You guys rock.
> 
> This was originally meant to be a quick one shot based on a series of three Gifs of Norman Reedus in 8mm. Who knew it'd grow into such a big one. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Biting back a groan, Rick lowered himself onto the spinning chair at his desk. His grip tight on the hard moulded plastic as he eased himself back. He refused to rest his hand protectively over his side, half sure Margaret would appear the moment he did with her wide concerned eyes and suggestion that he goes home.

Sitting is better than standing but it doesn't ease the hot pain of his side. It’s a gnawing pain, constant and unaltered except to spike high, blindingly painful when he overestimates himself.

He worked on measuring his breath and riding the crest of the wave of pain his change in position had made.

He was back at work too early, his doctor had frowned at him and lectured him for an hour when he took the paperwork in for him to sign. He’d relented in the end, with strict instructions for a light work load and a desk job.

Being back didn't mean he wasn't tired or in pain, it just meant he had to grit his teeth and push through because it was his own damn fault. Perhaps that’s why Margaret hovering annoyed him so much, but the impersonal walls of his apartment were driving him insane and he'd take the comfort of being back and the light workload over staring at them any longer than he had to.

Laughter came from the kitchenette and his eyes drifted towards the noise. It seemed louder with just the skeleton crew drifting around the station.

Rick looked at the paperwork on his desk and held back a sigh. He hadn't minded working night shifts as a rookie, but that had been in a squad car and there was a certain freedom to that. Chained to a desk until he his doctors signed off on him returning to a full workload was much more stifling.

Day shift wouldn’t have been so bad, more people around at least, more jobs to get done. But it had been his decision to take nights -avoiding the whole situation like a child instead of manning up and working with Shane.

Even as he thought it, bile rose in the back of his throat and his hands clamped down on the arms of his chair as though holding himself back from doing something reckless, something violent.

Shaking himself, he turned his attention to his desk and pulled himself forward, bowing his head and setting to work on the paperwork they'd put him in charge of. It was necessary but tedious work.

Time crawled and he pushed on, nodding goodbye to the last of the late shift as they headed home, leaving the night crew and the dim corridors of the station.

Monroe and Clarkson left for patrol and Rick looked around to see the squad room empty. Margaret was in her small cubicle manning the radios as she filed her nails and sipped at a coke, there were two officers behind the reception desk and another in the security room but for the most part Rick was alone.

He sunk back into his chair and rubbed tiredly at his face, fingers lingering over the thick stubble which crept down his throat and thought absently about shaving it off.

So many things seemed like too much effort at the moment. He tired so easily and there didn’t seem much of a point in keeping his hair short and jaw clean shaven when he was only ever going from his empty apartment to riding a desk, occasionally stopping in at the supermarket between the two. He felt satisfied that his uniform was clean, if not perfectly pressed.

Lori had always taken such pride in appearances and it had been easy to follow her lead and keep himself tidy, it was professional and he did take pride in his job, why not his appearance? He found that since the divorce he'd begun to let some things slide, he wasn't a slovenly bachelor, he was forty-three years old and had grown accustomed to order, but there was a definite relaxing of rules and he found there was a small sense of liberation that came from growing his hair a little longer, the facial hair he'd have to think about though.

“You alright for coffee, honey?” Margaret was paused in the entrance of the kitchenette, hip cocked and smile bright.

Rick cast a glance at his coffee cup and the mouthful of cold coffee left at the bottom.

“Some more would be great.” He moved to lever himself up.

“Don’t be silly, I’ll get it,” she pointed a manicured nail at Rick, “you rest.” she scolded playfully. Rick bit back an irritated huff and smiled at her as she collected his mug and made her way back to the kitchenette.

He was tired of being injured, of people being so careful around him. He knew it was ridiculous to be annoyed at people being nice, but _everyone_ was being nice. Rick wasn’t even sure if it was the bullet wound or the divorce which garnered him the most sympathy.

He smiled and thanked Margaret when she returned. She leant towards him when she placed the mug down carefully on a clear patch of desk, the low cut of her top offering a generous view down her front. Ricks smile became pinched.

Margaret was a beautiful woman, ten years younger than Rick, who worked hard at her job and had always been friendly; but her particular brand of forthright flirtation which she’d always had, occasionally made Rick uncomfortable. He’d found, over the years, that it was easier to feign ignorance and pretend not to notice. He didn’t know if she had amped it up since Ricks divorce or if he just noticed it more now he was newly single, either way, it made him uncomfortable.

Margaret paused a moment before turning on her heel with a flick of her hair and went back to her post at the phones.

Rick took a moment more to rest his weary body before he scooted forward and got back to work, shuffling the first few pages to remind himself where he’d gotten to.

Transferring old case files to a digital copy was tedious and mind numbing work. He found that once he got into the swing of it, it was easy to let the time slip away and let the repetitive motions take over.

When he heard the arrhythmic squeak of the cleaners trolley he glanced up to see the new janitor enter the main squad room.

The head of tousled dark hair was bowed as the young man maneuverer the old janitors trolley into its usual spot against one of the desks on the other side of the room. The boy kept his shoulders up and tense and there was a disinterested lope to his stride which Rick watched sometimes when his mind strayed from his work and his eyes sought any movement to lock onto.

As with almost every day for the past two weeks, the young man ran an assessing eye over Rick and ducked his head towards his chest in a nod as he set to work.

Rick returned the gesture and shifted his attention back to his work, letting the noises of the janitor going about his various tasks fill the lonely silence. It made it easier to work somehow, years spent working in a busy squad room, talking over everyone else and the ringing of phones and clatter of keyboards as well as the constant background sound of radios had trained Rick and he hadn’t even realised it.

“You want a sandwich?” Ricks voice broke the silence and sounded low and gruff to his own ears. The boy froze and cocked his head at Rick, eyes narrowing as he studied him in silence, leaning against the handle of his mop.

Rick waved the wrapped sandwich in his hand vaguely in the air. “I made it with chutney out of habit.” which was half true. He’d brought Lori’s favourite brand of chutney out of habit, and as he’d prepared his own sandwich he’d set that out as well. He’d been annoyed at himself both times and he’d gone to throw the jar out but had paused, hand hovering over the bin, and had thought of the skinny janitor who reminded Rick of a stray cat, hissing and defensive and too skinny. “I hate chutney.” he supplied when the boy didn’t move.

When that received no reaction Rick shrugged to himself and placed the sandwich on the far corner of his desk, closest to the younger man, and purposely turned his attention back to his own sandwich. “It’s yours if you want it.” he said, letting it hover in the quiet room.

After a moment of silence, Rick wilfully ignoring the other man and the sandwich, he saw the boy approach out of the corner of his eye.

He held himself at awkward angles, one shoulder raised and head bowed so he looked at Rick from under his fringe. When he paused beside Ricks desk, Rick glanced at him, a small, encouraging smile on his face as he nodded at the sandwich.

He felt a coil of satisfaction when a long fingered hand reached forward slowly and claimed the sandwich. The sleeves of his orange coveralls were rolled up to reveal strong forearms which seemed somehow at odds with how slight he was, despite the broad width of his shoulders which he kept slouched as though to hide how wide they were.

The boy moved back a couple of paces and unwrapped the sandwich. He gave it a cursory inspection before tearing a section off and shoving it in his mouth.

“What’s your name?” Rick asked, the boy licked his lips as he swallowed his mouthful.

“Daryl.” his voice was low and rough and even in the one short word, heavy with the backwoods of Georgia, Rick nodded and fiddled with his own sandwich.

“I’m Rick.” He said. The boy bobbed his head in a nod to show he’d heard but his attention was on the sandwich in his hands.

The phone on Ricks desk rang and he swivelled his chair to face it. By the time he finished the phone call Daryl was on the other side of the room, back to work, sandwich finished.

 

They repeated the performance for the next four days. Ricks excuse for the extra sandwich was wearing thin by the second but neither of them said anything. By the third shared meal, Daryl approached Rick’s desk with only a small hesitation and rested his hip against the desktop as he ate.

Rick saw these small developments as accomplishments though he tried not to show that he’d noticed, somehow sure that if Daryl saw him noticing the slight thawing of his behaviour, he’d clamp right up again.

They didn’t linger over their food. Daryl ate with a single minded focus, not seeming to care what was in the sandwich, or even seeming to notice that the filling changed each night.

He didn’t express a preference for any and Rick observed him carefully, looking for any hint of one.

Each night, after they finished their late-night lunch Daryl would nod or murmur a low ‘ _thanks_ ’ as he scrunched up the wrapping in his fist, dump it in Ricks wastepaper basket which he then picked up and took to his trolley to empty and get back to work.

Rick would return to his work, taking in the sounds of Daryl moving around the room. When the younger man finished up the squad room and left for other parts of the station, Rick would wave or nod goodbye and watch his figure disappear down the corridor and out of sight.

 

Rick had his usual two days off and returned to work tired and irritable. His side ached, his whole body ached. His physiotherapist said he was making good progress and healing very well but when he came away from his appointment, weak limbed and shaking from exhaustion, he found it hard to believe.

He’d always tried to keep a certain level of fitness; but he was willing to admit he’d let it slide a little in the last few years. He imagined it would have been worst after the divorce if he hadn’t been required to rebuild the strength on his side, and regain some of the muscle he’d lost while he was in his coma, and then recuperating in the hospital after the shooting.

He slumped into his desk chair and absently observed the sensation of lead limbs shaking from exhaustion.  

Margaret had already asked him if he wanted to go home, offered him herbal tea and a back rub when he refused. He’d thanked her with a smile but hadn’t taken any of the offers. His headache blooming behind his eyes, though he tried to not become snappy or show his irritability. It wasn’t Margaret's fault he was in a terrible mood, wasn’t her fault he ached, or that he knew his dreams would be disturbed with the mosaic memories of the shooting and he’d be exhausted and irritable for the next couple of days.

When she finally left him to his work, he pushed on with his teeth gritted in determination and ploughed forward through the piles of papers that never seemed to shrink.

The squeaking wheel of the cleaner’s trolley, which was usually the only indication or warning Rick got that Daryl was nearby, was interrupted suddenly when it was still some distance off. The sudden break in the routine made Rick look up, curious at the anomaly in Daryl’s behaviour.

Margaret was talking to him at the far end of the corridor. She was pointing emphatically and a hip was jutted in an almost petulant manner. Rick watched them curiously. Daryl wasn’t reacting, though he was listening to her with his head bowed and his hands fixed on the handles of his trolley. As one, they looked down the corridor towards Rick and he realised what they were talking about.

Rick bit back an irritated growl and purposely turned his eyes away, though he knew Daryl had been the only one to notice him watching them. The squeak of the trolley began again and Rick looked up to watch Daryl’s approach, Margaret nowhere in sight.

As with every evening, Daryl ran an assessing eye over Rick and offered him the same small nod of his head before he began his routine tasks. Rick watched him absently, allowing his attention to drift between the papers in front of him and the bright orange jumpsuit which drifted around the room.

Daryl was never loud when he worked, but he seemed even quieter than usual; lowering the empty wastepaper baskets with a little more care than he usually would, and moving the chairs out of the way where usually he would knock them with a hip or his broom, uncaringly.

As he approached, Rick gave up any pretence of not watching him and slumped low in his seat to observe the younger man.

“What’d Margaret want with you?” Rick eventually asked. Daryl shrugged one shoulder and continued working. Rick licked his lips and weighed up whether he should continue or not. “She tell you to be quiet because of me?” This time, Daryl darted a look at him from beneath his messy fringe. “You don’t have to, I’m fine.” Rick continued. From under the mess of Daryls dark hair Rick thought there might have been a quirk to his mouth, but Daryl lowered his head again before Rick could see for sure.

Rick gave up and settled back to watching Daryl work, fiddling with a pen absently as the younger man slowly made his way towards Ricks desk.

For the last few nights, whenever Daryl made it to his desk Rick would offer the spare sandwich and they would eat in companionable silence. Daryl looked unsure as he closed in on him and Rick observed how he chewed his lower lip nervously.

“I have leftover Chinese tonight.” Rick opened. For a brief second, disappointment flashed across the younger man’s face and Rick felt a renewed sense of purpose at it, “I ordered way too much, there’s plenty if you want some.” Rick worked to keep his voice casual. Daryl’s hesitation was pronounced this time and Rick decided to push on. Levering himself up from the chair, he ground his teeth against a groan which built in his chest and nodded to the other man as though a decision had been made. “Good. I can’t eat it all.” He straightened up and Daryl made a faltering step, face going pinched and concerned.

“I’ll get it,” his voice was as low as always and once again, it took Rick by surprise. Rick opened his mouth to argue, feeling the same irritation he’d felt at Margaret flare up. Daryl seemed to read it on his face because he huffed a derisive noise and seemed to square himself, challengingly. “You’re old and tired.”

“I’m not old.” Rick burst out before he could think. Daryl’s eyebrows rose and Rick huffed, pursing his lips. He was tired of being coddled, tired of Margaret and everyone else walking on eggshells around him. He squinted at Daryl and supposed he wasn’t exactly being gentle about helping him. The irritation mellowed a little and he crossed his arms defensively over his chest and frowned at Daryl “I’m forty-three.” He said. A small smile quirked at the corners of Daryl’s mouth which he hid by ducking his head.

“And you look every day of it. Sit the hell down.” Daryl said as he turned away. Rick did as he was told and felt his own lips quirk up. Feisty and blunt was a good look on the younger man, it suited him. He was so often wary, tense and defensive, the more relaxed side of him was interesting.

Rick settled back in his seat and tried to relax his muscles, tensed with exhaustion and pain, like his physio told him to do, as he listened to Daryl in the kitchenette. He was silent when he moved and Rick only knew he was still there by the sound of the fridge door opening and closing, the rustle of the plastic and the opening, closing and whirr of the microwave.

Daryl returned with the boxes of Chinese food and dumped them unceremoniously on top of the papers on Ricks desk. He thought about moving them, but accepted the fork Daryl thrust at him and picked a container at random. He watched Daryl pick one up and poke at its contents before digging his own fork in.

“You can sit down.” Rick said, waving his fork vaguely at the chair beside his desk he’d sit people as he took their statements. Daryl shot the chair a dark look but didn’t say anything, simply tucking into his food. Rick didn’t press it and after a minute of quiet eating Daryl leant against Ricks desk, beside Rick, legs kicked out in front of him as he worked his way through the container of food. Rick swivelled his chair wordlessly so the younger man had more room and he wasn’t pressed against the hard arm of Ricks chair.

It was the closest he’d been to Daryl and he observed him as he ate, being careful not to make him feel scrutinised. He was young, somewhere in his mid-twenties, finely boned and strong looking despite how thin and half-starved he looked. There was something about him which drew the eye, he wasn’t traditionally attractive but there was something pleasing about the way his features sat together.

Rick sighed around his mouthful, feeling some of the frustration and annoyance slip away with the food and quiet companionship. He was lonely, he missed his wife and his best friend, missed the bustle of the station and even his neighbour who mowed the lawn too early on Ricks day off.

He was tired on the constant, nagging pain of his healing side and the heavy feeling of betrayal and loss which had taken the place of his wife and friend in his chest.

He’d spent the weekend with Carl, two days where he got to be close to his son. He’d tried to ignore the times Carl had bitten back some story or switched part way through; eyes darting guiltily away in a way which Rick knew meant Shane had been involved in some way. He let Carl hold on to the childish delusion that by not mentioning the other man, they somehow kept him from intruding on their time together.

Rick couldn’t help but feel a sick anger at the other man, couldn’t help how his guts burned with the knowledge that he was spending time with Ricks son, was sleeping in Ricks house, kissing his wife, _ex-wife._ It made him angry in a way he couldn’t articulate to think of how Shane had stepped into Ricks life.

Pulling his attention away from where they would spiral downwards, he realised he had finished his food and was holding an empty container. Daryl was looking at him from under his fringe, hand raised as he chewed on the cuticle of his thumb. When he saw Ricks attention had returned he reached for the container without a word and put it in his own before dumping it unceremoniously in the wastepaper basket as he rose and returned the forks to the kitchenette.

He paused beside Ricks desk, shoulders tense and hunched defensively. “You need anything?” Daryl asked, voice low and eyes on Rick. Rick smiled brightly and felt the anger and sadness he’d felt growing in his guts disappear as though blown away. He shook his head and let the smile settle down into a pleased curl of his lips and thought absently about how he could feel the skin beside his eyes crinkle. It had been a while since he’d smiled and really meant it.

“Thank you.” he said shaking his head, Daryl shrugged one shoulder awkwardly and turned away, back to his routine. Rick watched his back for a moment, taking in the lingering smell of reheated Chinese food and cleaning fluids before turning back to his own work, shoulders feeling looser and head calmer.

 

Ricks late night meals with Daryl became his favourite time of day. It made the long hours of his shift slip away easily and he enjoyed the younger man’s company. Once he relaxed around Rick he was bright, witty and prone to snarking cleverly in a way which betrayed how smart he was.

Margaret disapproved, she’d made a point to mention that Daryl was doing community service in lieu of prison time. She had admitted, when pressed, that she didn’t know what for, but her expression said plainly enough that the crime itself didn’t matter.

Rick had no way of knowing, but he thought she might have said something to Daryl about taking up Ricks time. Daryl had retreated back into himself and had seemed hesitant in a way he hadn’t for a while when Rick set out Daryl’s portion of food. Rick had made a point of not noticing or pushing but had been relieved all the same when Daryl’s hesitancy disappeared and didn’t return the next night.

Even if Margaret or any of the other night shift had said something about it to Rick, there wouldn’t have been any cause for complaint. Daryl’s jobs were always finished and the squad room was always neat and tidy by the time he left. Rick himself found it easier to work with the younger man bustling around and he felt calmer and more focused after their shared meals so he saw no reason to regret his decision to feed the younger man.

Rick wasn’t sure if Daryl liked him or just humoured him because Rick fed him, or if Daryl was as bored as Rick was and conversation was better than terse silence and being ignored.

His week passed quickly, time slipping away with little change in his routine. The only bright spots in his days were his late night meals with Daryl and the occasional text from Carl as they planned for Ricks days off, they were small comforts but Rick allowed himself to enjoy them.

The first night back after his days off were always hard. Rick was antsy, left feeling impotent and lonely with Carl returned to Lori. The week of long night shifts seemed to stretch ahead of him on that first day back, an insurmountable obstacle in front of him before he could see his son and he could feel relevant again.

Rick rested back into his desk chair and absently assessed how his muscles ached after his appointment at the physiotherapist, pleased to note he didn’t ache as much as he used to and could even believe his physio when he said Rick was improving.

When Daryl entered, Rick shifted his attention to him, not feeling in the mood to concentrate on the dull work on his desk.

They exchanged their usual silent greeting and Rick settled back in his worn chair and watched Daryl as he went about his tasks. Daryl was aware of his scrutiny, glancing at Rick from beneath his fringe occasionally, as though checking he still had Ricks attention, though he looked lost at how to interpret it.

Rick wasn’t sure himself. He just knew he was bored and antsy, and that watching the boy’s progress around the squad room quieted the buzzing in his head and made it easier to sink into the placidity he needed to get through this week, particularly as he knew he wouldn’t get the whole two days with Carl this week, just a few hours before he went on a camping trip for his best friend’s birthday.

Carl had barely talked about anything else, his blue eyes so bright with excitement as he told Rick about all the things they had planned. Rick had smiled and let him talk, happy that his son was happy, even if it meant giving up his time with him.

Daryl was moved from desk to desk, emptying the wastepaper baskets one at a time,

“I spent all yesterday helping my son with a book report.” Rick wasn’t sure why he told Daryl that, some desire to fill in the silence perhaps.

He had never been much of a talker, it was what drove Lori away in the end, but he’d always been surrounded by conversation. Shane ran his mouth whenever there wasn’t food in it, and always had. Over the years Rick had gotten used to the noise, the familiar comfort of people around him. He liked the quiet, liked how he and Daryl didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s company, but he did miss it sometimes.

Silence was such a part of his new life. His impersonal apartment was empty and quiet and he only seemed to be out when everyone else had gone home and settled in for the night. He’d realised the other day that he was at nodding acquaintance with two other late-night regulars to the supermarket he frequented every other night after his shift. He wondered if that was nice or just sad.

When he talked with Margaret he felt like he had to tread carefully with everything he said, unwilling to do anything to encourage her but didn’t want to be rude. He liked her, she was nice and thoughtful and deserved someone to appreciate her, but Rick knew he wasn’t the right man to do it and didn’t want to somehow give her the wrong impression.

So he was left with Daryl, the quiet, wary boy who cleaned the station at night and barely spoke some days.

Thinking about what he’d said, Rick wanted to laugh at how dull it was. It was strange to realise that he had nothing more interesting to say, that the best part of his week had been such a small, dull little thing. Daryl glanced up at him, shoulders held in a tense line as he continued to work, his attention drifting from his chores to Rick.

“You have a son?” Daryl said to the floor, mouth barely moving as he formed the words. Rick hummed an agreement, watching as Daryl moved the mop back and forth with strong, controlled and strangely fluid movements.

“He’s thirteen now.” Rick murmured, as if reminding himself. It seemed like a week ago that they’d celebrated his ninth birthday at the waterpark, Lori beautiful in the sunshine and Carl small in his arms as they wrestled in the water.

Rick shook the thought away, bringing his attention back to the room and caught how Daryl chewed on his lip as he worked, brow furrowed as he darted another look at Rick. “He lives with his mother. I see him on my days off.” He didn’t know why he shared that, but he caught Daryl’s eyes when he glanced back at him and smiled tiredly when Daryl sucked his lips into his mouth and hunched his shoulders a little.

Rick continued, just filling the space as Daryl worked. “He’d read this terrible book, really dull stuff, all about some old gardener...” Rick rambled absently as his eyes strayed to the cleaner’s trolley where he’d seen various books tucked away behind some bottles along with a crumpled packet of cigarettes. He’d never paid much attention to them, just noting that they changed every week or so but the brand of the cigarette never did.

“What’s your favourite book?” Rick asked, returning his attention to the lean figure. Daryl started as though surprised; his broad hands flexed around the handle of his mop and when he darted a look at Rick his face looked confused and vaguely amused. He shrugged one broad shoulder, letting it drop as he cocked his head at the ground and kept working. Rick waited.

“I guess…” Daryl shrugged again, his voice low, “I guess _Call of the Wild_ , maybe.” he darted a look at Rick as though checking it was the right answer. Rick smiled and felt his face light up and he nodded at the younger man.

“I haven’t read that since I was young.” he said, his mind drifting to the book he’d enjoyed so much when he’d read it, thirteen years old and longing for adventure.

Daryl nodded, the corners of his mouth curling up as he continued working. When he ducked his head down, hiding his face behind his hair Rick thought there might have been a flush on his high cheeks, but he couldn’t be sure.

When Daryl had worked his way around to Ricks desk he slumped down onto his now usual place on the edge of the desk, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the heavy-booted ankles.

Rick swivelled his chair to give him room and handed him a sandwich. His knee knocked against the underside of Daryls and when the younger man didn’t react, he let the contact linger.

It had been a long time since he’d touched so casually. It seemed like the only person that had touched him recently was his physio and that touch was professionally clinical, and hurt as much as it healed.

“Some guy’s been looking at gay porn in the mens.” Daryl said after he’d made his habitual inspection of his sandwich and taken a large bite. His tone was conversational, eyes on his fingers as he pushed a slice of tomato back between the slices of bread.

“What?” Rick asked around his mouthful. Daryl shrugged one shoulder.

“Found it, They’d thrown it in the bin there.” Daryl said, attention fixed on his sandwich.

“It might have been confiscated or something.” Rick offered, Daryl looked at him.

“Do you throw confiscated items in the mensroom trash?” his eyebrows rose in question and Rick bowed his head.

“No.” Rick admitted and Daryls mouth curled upwards.

Rick bit into his own sandwich and chewed it as he thought. He could imagine Daryl finding something like that, he could picture it all too clearly in his mind. The long, lean line of Daryl, one hip cocked as he leant against his mop, flicking through the pages with an amused twitch of his thin lips and his eyebrows riding high. Maybe he’d blush, sharp cheeks blooming pink as he looked at the figures on the page.

“You find much weird stuff in the trash?” Rick asked, Daryl shrugged and recrossed his legs.

“Don’t look or nothing, but yeah.” He waved one hand behind him to the row of offices on the far end of the squad-room. “Like, used condoms in one of them offices.” he expanded, Ricks eyes drifted towards the offices.

“Which…” Rick started before shaking his head and tearing his eyes away. “Don’t tell me.” he decided firmly.

When he looked at Daryl, the younger man’s eyes were bright and he looked like he was biting back a smile as he chewed on the remains of his sandwich

“You ever find anything weird in the desk opposite mine?” Rick asked after a moments silence. Daryl’s chewing slowed and his eyes narrowed as they darted a look over his shoulder at the empty desk butting up against Ricks.

“Should I have?” he asked, voice low. Rick slumped back into his chair and sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

“No, don’t know why I asked.” Ricks voice was low and tired, even to his own ears.

“You’ve got boring trash, man.” Daryl said, breaking the silence which had crept in. When Rick looked at him, the boy was smirking at Rick from beneath his hair. “Unless you been leaving it in the mens room trash.” his narrow mouth was pulled into a teasing smirk, one corner of his mouth raised up, drawing attention to the small beauty mark above his lip.

Rick laughed, head falling back and the sound coming from deep in his chest. Shaking his head, he smiled at Daryl who looked quietly pleased with himself. Rick lifted one hand to rest on Daryls knee and squeezed it once as he chuckled again. The limb under his hand was solid with muscle and warm through the thick material of his coveralls and Rick had to pull his hand away.

“No, no secret porn stash. At least, not recently.” Rick was awarded with a small huff of laughter escaping Daryls mouth as he smiled, ducking his head to watch his large hands fiddle with the empty sandwich wrapper.

Rick felt lighter after Daryl left, some of the restless tension eased from his shoulders and he turned his attention to the paperwork on his desk with renewed interest. When he finished up for the night, nodding a weary greeting to the first of the early shift as they entered, he was pleased to see the pile of work still to do had shrunk, just a little.  

On his way home he stopped at his usual supermarket to buy a few things that were easy to prepare. He wandered the familiar isles, the bright fluorescent lights harshly white and eliminating any suggestion of the unreasonable hour.

Just by chance, Rick found himself in the small book section near the candy. Looking at the surprisingly large assortment of books, Rick rubbed the sleep from his eyes and let them drift over the titles. His eyes landed on _The Call of the Wild_ and he paused.

Picked up a copy, he hefted the weight in his hand and studied the cover. Without thinking too hard on it, he put it in his basket amongst his few groceries he’d picked out and didn’t think about the fond curl of warmth he felt when his mind linked the book with Daryl.

At home, he set the book to the side as he put his groceries away. When he made his way into the bedroom he carried it with him, putting it beside his bed before he undressed and crawled under the covers and sunk into an exhausted sleep.

 

The next evening, Daryl set down two cans of Orange Crush after he’d finished his initial chores and settled into his usual place on Ricks desk. Rick toasted him with one as thanks and opened it with a hiss or carbonated air.

Daryl looked pleased as he took a swallow of his own, setting it to the side and opened the container of pasta Rick had made before work that afternoon. They ate in companionable silence, Ricks mind drifting from the young man beside him, to the work on his desk, to his texts with Carl earlier that evening.

The night was quiet, there was an easy feeling between them and Rick relaxed back comfortably into his chair savouring the way his body moved easier than it has in a while. Taking a large mouthful of pasta, Rick watched as Daryl shovelled food into his mouth.

“What do you do when you’re not here?” Rick asked when he swallowed. Daryl shot him a look, shrugging his shoulders as he chewed his bulging mouthful.

“Hunt mostly.” He said around the pasta in his mouth. Rick felt his eyebrows raise.

“What, like trophies?” he asked, digging the prongs of his fork through his food, searching for a mushroom. Daryl snorted.

“Hell no.” he said as he swallowed, “That dick-waving ain’t for me.” He shoved another forkful of pasta into his mouth. “Hunt for food or don’t hunt at all.” he said and it sounded like a mantra or something, a rule he lived by and had been taught to him.

Rick thought about how he attacked the food when Rick gave it to him, shovelling it in and eating anything given to him, the way his cheekbones were so pronounced, a little less now than they’d been two months ago, but still suggesting he was far thinner than he should be.

He tried to imagine the young man in the woods, tracking prey. He found it easier than he expected once he changed the bright orange coveralls for some more muted clothing in his mental image.

Daryl’s footsteps were always silent, and he held himself in a way which suggested a greater awareness of his surroundings than he let on. Rick chewed thoughtfully and found it was surprisingly easy to picture the younger man as some half-glimpsed figure in the woods. There was something wild and uncontainable about him which suited it.

“So you’re good then?” Rick asked, a teasing smile curling at his lips. Daryl shot him a glance as he lifted his can of Orange Crush and shrugged, shooting Rick a smirk as he closed his mouth around the lip of the can and took a few heavy swallows of it.

Rick watched him absently as he returned to his meal, attention drifting down Daryl’s throat to his large hand which fiddled with the fork he was holding, twirling the utensil around his strong fingers.

Rick let his eyes wander down the long line of the younger man’s body, taking in the dramatic V of his torso, the narrow hips cocked casually and the way his eyes were heavy-lidded over blue eyes.

Rick was surprised to find that he _wanted_. It was a hunger in him he hadn’t felt in years, a selfish, jealous want that demanded he claim the boy in front of him, to make him his and not let anyone else look at the strong lines of his body, the delicate angles of his face under shaggy brown hair which Rick wanted to push away from his face. He wanted to keep the remarkable young man who seesawed between wary, shy awkwardness and cocky, brash and snarky with an ease that made Ricks head spin. Daryl was an unreal figure who had wandered into Ricks world when he was near rock bottom and had become a beacon and a shining moment of goodness in his dull, dreary life.

The moment seemed charged. Daryl's thin lips were loose and inviting, his hip cocked where it rested against his desk looked provocative, drawing the eye and Rick imagined he was holding his body as though poised, inviting Rick to look at him.

Rick swallowed thickly, grinding his teeth together and bit back a sigh, suddenly tired. He breathed deeply, shaking the thoughts from his mind.  

The hard clicks of Margaret's shoes approached and Rick looked up to see her entering the squad room. She cast a disapproving glance at Daryl who made a point of relaxing back against Ricks desk, Rick found his eyes lingering on the way it thrust his hips forward and drew attention to the slim waist.

Tearing his eyes away, Rick looked towards Margaret, smiling warmly.

“Do you want a coffee, honey?” she asked, her dark eyes were warm and she kept them trained on Rick. Rick raised the can of Orange Crush in his hands and shook his head as he thanked her.

She paused before she turned around. When she spoke, her voice was sweet and laced with concern. “You look tired. Are you doing alright?” Rick felt a hot coil or irritation curl in his guts and he warred with it, pushing it aside.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Margaret. You take good care of me.” he said with a smile. She glowed at his words, smiling brightly at him before disappearing into the kitchenette. Rick ignored Daryl shifting at his side and watched absently as Margaret re-emerged, throwing another bright smile at him as she passed.

As she walked away, Daryl let out a quiet snort of amusement. “She wants you so bad.” he said lowly. when Rick shot him a glance he was looking towards where Margaret had disappeared.

“That’s just Margaret, she’s always like that.” Rick explained, Daryl rolled his eyes and absently hollowed his cheeks as he bit back whatever he was thinking of saying. Rick shook his head and finished the last mouthful of pasta at the bottom of the container.

“You really got no idea when someone's into you, do you?” Daryl asked, his voice light and curious. Rick shot him a look.

“I was married for fifteen years.” Rick said as though that was answer enough.

“And no one's ever hit on a married man before.” Daryl with an amused twist to his mouth. With a fluid roll of his body Daryl stood up from his slouched pose against Ricks desk “Thanks for dinner, Officer.” He threw over his shoulder as he took the container from Ricks hand and retreated to the kitchen to dump it and his own; before crossing the room and retrieved his cart, jostled it off its breaks and headed down the corridor.

Rick watched him go, eyes tracking the small swagger to his steps and his loping stride and he forced the cart on ahead of him. When he disappeared from view Rick turned his attention back to the paper in front of him,


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy you're all enjoying this!

Four nights later on his night off, Rick was woken by the shrill ring of his cell phone. When he answered it, eyes closed against the brilliant brightness of his screen, he heard distant background noise on the other end of the line.

Croaking into the phone, he waited for the person on the other end to speak. He’d almost decided to hang up when there was a sharp inhale and a small, low voice.

 _“Rick Grimes?”_ The voice asked. Rick frowned at where a slip of light from the streetlight outside came in through a crack in the curtains as he confirmed it was him. _“It's Daryl…”_ the voice said. Rick sat up properly in bed, a jolt of adrenaline running through him at the words. There was rustling and the voice was stronger when he spoke again, _“I’m at the hospital and I need a ride.”_ Daryl said, with a low, stilted quality to his voice, heavy with something hard to define and like a hushed, pleading murmur against Ricks ear.

Rick pulled himself out of bed and rummaged around on the chair in the corner of the room for a pair of jeans he pulled on, phone cradled between his ear and shoulder.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Rick asked, sleep vanished from his voice and leaving the cool, authoritative crack which he used on the job.

 _“‘M fine.”_ an exhausted sigh. _“I just need a ride.”_ Daryl said quietly.

“Which hospital?” Rick asked as he slid on a shirt and slipped his feet into his boots before making his way towards the door, grabbing his keys and wallet as he passed.

 _“County General.”_ There was the faint ding of the payphone and a muffled curse, followed by a rustling sound.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, where are you?” Rick said as he locked his door and hurried down the impersonal corridors of his apartment building.

 _“Emergency.”_ Daryl said, right before the payphone beeped once more and hung up. Rick gritted his teeth against the slew of frustrated words that welled up and pocketed his phone, hurrying his steps down the stairs and into the hot air of the late night.

The drive across town was blessedly fast, the late hour emptying the roads and leaving them orange washed stretches of black asphalt that disappeared into darkness.

County General was one of the largest hospitals in the area; its buildings were dated and worn, and the corridors were built like a rabbit warren. The design didn't make much sense and became more convoluted each time a new buildings was added onto old, connected in haphazard ways.

Rick had been there a lot, knew some of the nurses and doctors by name and had teased Shane about his kink for nurses each time they’d traipsed in and out of here to get statements, ask questions and do follow-ups.

Navigating the hospital, Rick made his way to the emergency room on the ground floor, on the opposite side of the building to the public parking lot.

He could tell something was going on before he’d made it there. Hospitals were like police stations, they never really slept, there was always something happening and people moving through the spaces like ghosts.

There was raised voices echoing through the dimmed halls and Rick hurried his steps, somehow already knowing what he’d see when he turned the corner.

A huddle of people stood by the brightly lit nurses station, there were small clusters of nurses and orderlies standing around watching the spectacle of two nurses trying to calm Daryl down as two security officers and an orderly attempted to removing him from the room.

Daryl was like a pissed off snake, hissing and angry, writing out of the grasp of the three men holding him back. He used his body well in a fight, alternating between brute strength and lithe flexibility to keep them from overwhelming him and Rick had to admire it. His long legs kicked out wildly, as he shouted and cursed at them, his face flushed and blotchy with anger. The fire Rick had glimpsed in the younger man blazed white-hot.

Rick pushed between them, easing his way between Daryl and the hospital staff, subtly pushing the security back and getting between them and Daryl as their frustration mounted and their reticence to harm him vanished. Rick had seen it before.

Raising his hands in a placating gesture Rick calmed the protests, using his height and his calm like a rock in the ocean.

Daryl reared back, darting away like he wasn’t sure if Rick was going to be another threat or not. Rick moved towards him slowly, arms unconsciously out to show him he wasn’t a danger and felt a curl of pleasure when Daryl let him approach. He moved close, keeping his voice low and private.

“This isn’t going to solve anything. I need you to calm down and we’ll sort this out.” Daryl’s eyes drifted over Ricks shoulder to the group behind him. His face had a sullen, hard edge to it like he was thinking of ignoring Rick and pushing through. Eventually, he gave a short jerk of his head in a nod and rocked his body away, the fluidity of his movements once again contained and controlled.

Rick followed him a few paces, darting a glance at the security who shifted as though to follow but remained still, their eyes on the two of them.

Rick gripped Daryl’s forearm loosely, turning him away from their gazes and ducked his head close to the younger man.

“What the hell is going on?” he breathed, keeping his voice low. A muscle in Daryl’s jaw jumped and the exposed muscles of his forearms seemed to quiver with restrained aggression.

“They won’t let me see my brother. He’s in there and they won’t let me see him.” Daryl’s voice held the hard edged sullenness Rick had observed many times in suspects and street kids picked up for vandalism and robbery.

It was strange to hear it out of Daryl’s mouth, twining so well with his deep backwoods drawl. He’d never seen Daryl as one of the perps he’d picked up off the streets more times than he could count. Even knowing he was doing community service in lieu of prison time, he’d never really seen him like those people.

Looking at him now, sweaty in worn, threadbare jeans and a sleeveless shirt, picking fights with security guards he could see the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, could see the kid Margaret saw.

But beneath all of that, the worn, fraying clothes and the bluster, was the young man Rick had gotten to know over the past few months. The wary kid who approached so cautiously, who read books and ate like a starving man, who smiled so shyly at Rick sometimes and looked pleased when he got a laugh out of him.

It was like having double vision; but strangely, both personalities seemed to fit him, they filled in the gaps of each other, filling him out, making the hazy image Rick had acquired of him in his mind clearer somehow.

“Hollering and causing trouble ain’t going to get you in there.” Rick shot a look over his shoulder at the small group, “Let me talk to them, okay?” he kept Daryl’s gaze until he jerked his chin towards his chest in a nod and averted his gaze. Rick nodded back, reaching out and squeezing Daryl’s shoulder once before turning on his heel and heading towards the group.

Rick kept an eye on Daryl as he spoke to the head nurse. He paced in small, tight circles, his shoulders tense and held in a rigid line. He made a point of never looking directly at Rick as he spoke in lowered voices with the nurse, but Rick got the feeling he was watching him.

When he turned away and headed towards the younger man, Daryl met him half way, eyes narrowed in question.

Rick shook his head and eased him back down to corridor with a firm hold on his arm.

“Your brother is going to be okay. He’s sedated up to the gills and is going to be out for the rest of the night.” Rick spoke in a measured, low tone as he led Daryl away from the nurse’s station. Daryl’s face went pinched and angry.

“I want to see him.” His accent was thick and rough, but it shook with feelings and Rick was reminded how young he was.

“He’s in ICU, no one’s getting in to see him tonight. We can try again tomorrow.” Rick cast a look at Daryl who looked like he was gearing up to start throwing punches, Rick stepped in closer, lowering his voice to a hiss, “They were two seconds from calling the cops on you, you wouldn’t see your brother at all if that happened.” Daryl stilled, the fire dimming. “We will try again tomorrow.” Rick promised. He kept Daryl’s eye until he nodded, a sharp jerk of the head and his eyes sliding away. Rick nodded and stepped back, giving him space as he led him through the building into the warm, late night.

Daryl looked small in the passenger seat of Ricks car; curled up against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest and head resting against the window. It was like he’d collapsed, all fire and bluster leaving him the moment the car door closed him in.

Rick cast a look at him as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

“You okay?” he asked, eyes straying on the bruise forming under the younger man’s eye, it was mostly hidden in the shadows of the car but as they passed under a streetlight it showed boldly on his pale skin. Daryl nodded, resettling his head against the window where it rested.

“Shit man,” Daryl sounded exhausted, voice low in the quiet of the car, “I know it’s your night off…” he began, eye followed the movement of Ricks hand when he waved it through the air to dismiss what he was saying.

“Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t sleeping anyway.” Rick kept his attention out the window, focus on driving through the familiar, empty streets, watching the young man out of the corner of his eye. “What happened?” he asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

Daryl shifted in his seat, looking more relaxed but still exhausted. When Rick glanced over he had raised one booted foot onto the seat and was picking at the frayed hole in the knee of his jeans. Daryl huffed a breath when Rick didn’t push and eventually he answered.

“Just stupid shit.” His dark head shifted in a dismissive shake, but he continued, “Merle, my brother, he was just being a dumbass. Was high.” The last was said in a low voice, barely above a whisper and hung heavily in the air, weighed down by exhaustion and what might have been sadness.

Rick didn’t push and stared ahead at the empty road.

“How’d you get my number, anyway?” Rick asked after a moment, the question popping into his head. A corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched up before he pulled it back down.

“Swiped a business card off your desk.” He said, a small thread of pride weaving into the words. Rick let out a ‘ _huh_ ’ noise and nodded vaguely, trying to think back and wondered if he’d been seated at the desk at the time.

The rest of the drive was done in silence.

When Rick pulled into his parking space in front of his apartment building, Daryl sat up as though finally realising he didn’t know where he was. His blue eyes were wide as he looked at the empty street and the barred security door of Ricks apartment building. He turned to Rick with wide eyes, biting at his thumbnail as he studied the older man. Rick kept himself calm and his face open.

“I can take you home if you want, but it's late and I have a couch you can sleep on.” He cast a glance up at the building through he knew he couldn’t see his apartment from where he was parked.

When he looked back at Daryl, he was also looking up at the building, his tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. He turned back to Rick and tucked his chin into his chest in a nod. Rick nodded back and pushed his door open, levering himself out into the warm night air.

The air smelt electric like it does at night sometimes. The scorching heat of the day had cooled enough with the night to be pleasantly warm, and a gentle breeze pressed against his skin as he crossed the pavement towards the entrance. He had an ear cocked to hear Daryl exiting the car and closing it with a careless bang. His footsteps were silent as he crossed the pavement to hover behind Rick as he unlocked the security grill.

Rick had noticed the way Daryl moved silently through the empty rooms of the station, but had never really given it much thought. Now he wondered if Daryl was always as silent as a shadow. His mind drifted to the thought he’d conjured of him moving through the woods and he once again pondered the image, finding it strangely fitting.

Rick watched his silent companion unobtrusively as they climbed the stairs and moved through the brightly lit corridors. Daryl looked out of place, his shoulders tense and held high, his messy dark head of hair seemed somehow messier; his clothes more, worn and old in the bright light of the neat corridor. Rick found it hard to look away from him, this strange wild boy whose sharp eyes darted from every detail in the bland corridor Rick hated.

The door to his apartment looked like all the others except of the metal 312 that rested above the peep-hole.  Daryl seemed to sway backwards when Rick unlocked the door and shoved it open, waving him in vaguely. His tongue darted out to lick his lips again and his eyes flicked from Rick to the shadowed interior of his small home.

Rick smiled fondly at him which seemed to ease whatever was holding Daryl frozen. When he crossed the threshold, he did it with the same loose shoulders and loping stride Rick had admired countless times at work.

Head ducked and eyes moving restlessly over every surfaces in the room, Daryl lost some of the skittish wariness which clung to him, reminding Rick of when he’d first offered him a sandwich, like an animal cornered and not sure he could escape.

Now, he moved around the room in seemingly random circuits, attention drifting from one thing to another, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Rick watched him for a moment, taking in the way his body moved with its usual fluidity when he forgot to be wary. He looked as out of place in Ricks apartment as he had in the corridor. He was a dishevelled and grubby figure among the neat lines of the impersonal room.

Rick had never liked the apartment, but it served its purpose and was close to the hospital and to work. He’d expected to become more comfortable in it once he settled properly, but that had been a couple of months ago now and the place still had the air of a hotel or a model home.

Daryl turned from the bookshelf he was studying to look at Rick where he was leaning against the counter watching him. His chin was raised and a smile curled at his thin lips, drawing attention to the mark about his lip as he rose his eyebrows in question and shot a distinctive look to the small doll in a sexy nurse outfit that sat on his bookshelf.

Rick huffed a silent laugh, he felt warmth rise to his cheeks though he knew he wasn’t blushing. “A joke get-well gift from some of the guys at the station,” he explained, shaking his head at the memory.

Daryl was watching him from under his fringe, curl still at the corners of his mouth and Rick admired how comfortable he seemed, loose limbed and relaxed despite the impersonal room and the bruise blooming under his eye.

“You were sick?” Daryl asked as Rick crossed to his freezer and started rifling through the contents looking for the ice pack he knew he had in there. Rick hummed in agreement as he pulled it out and reached for a dishtowel to wrap it in. It shouldn’t surprise him, but it seemed like everyone Rick bumped into knew about the shooting, all his neighbours and workmates all knew, they all knew about the divorce too. The small town had never seemed so small before.

“Got shot.” He supplied succinctly, gesturing for Daryl to take a seat on the couch. Daryl’s eyes moved over him as though he would be able to spot the bullet wound if he looked hard enough. Rick smiled at him, fondness blooming in his chest.

Rick ghosted a hand over his side, where the ugly scar knotted his skin under his shirt, as answer to the unasked question. Daryl’s eyes fixed on the spot, barely paying attention to Rick as he inspected Daryl’s face before lifting the icepack to his bruise and moving Daryl’s hand to hold it in place.

“That why you work nights?” Daryl asked, attention finally moving away from Ricks side. Rick nodded absently, crossing back to lean against the countertop. “Couldn’t figure why a guy like you was a desk-pig.” Daryl blinked as though realising what he’d said, “Cop.” He amended with an air of amusement.

“Guy like me?” Rick asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. Daryl ducked his head, busying himself with the hanging end of the dishtowel and shrugged one shoulder absently.

“You know,” he began, shifting awkwardly and avoiding Ricks gaze, “All clean-cut, cop-like.” He mumbled towards his lap.

Rick wanted to push, could feel the amused smile quirking at his lips but one glance at the clock showed how late it was. He pulled himself away from the counter and crossed to the cupboard beside the bathroom door and pulled out a spare pillow and blanket.

Daryl watched him as he moved around, preparing the room around the younger man. When he’d sorted it out as best he could, he stood awkwardly in front of Daryl, suddenly aware of the presence in his house.

Looking down at Daryl, he fought the desire to shift uncomfortably, all too aware of the way his thoughts had shifted with alarming frequency into inappropriate areas when it came to the striking younger man.

“The bathrooms through there, help yourself. My rooms that one,” he paused, eyes on his own bedroom door, “if you need me, just knock, don’t worry about waking me.” When he glanced back at Daryl his attention was on the pillow he was running his fingers over, his shoulders squared and his head bowed so Rick couldn’t see his face. Rick nodded to the room and made his way purposely to his room.

“Thanks.” The low rumble came from the couch and Rick paused before closing the door to smile at Daryl. He nodded and let his eyes linger for a moment before closing the door on the wild looking youth in his living room.

He pulled his clothes off and tossed them into a pile on the floor before crawling back into his disturbed sheets in his briefs. He listened to the sounds of the other man as he moved around the outer room, in and out of the bathroom before the strip of light under the door clicked shut and there was the sound of the blanket and the creak of the couch springs as a body settled onto it.

Rick realised he was holding his breath, ears strained for any noise Daryl might make from the other room and shook his head at himself and rolled over, pulling the light blanket up and forced his mind to still.

 

Rick woke when his bedroom door creaked open. It wasn’t a groggy slide into wakefulness, it was the abrupt shock into awareness which had his hand reaching for a weapon he wasn’t carrying. Shaking the sudden shock away, Rick turned his head on the pillow to look at the figure in his doorway.

The single lame beside the couch was on and cast a low light through the room beyond. Daryl was silhouetted on the threshold of his room. His shoulders held tense, one slightly above the other and head bowed. He was still, like a statue and Rick kept his eyes on him as he pulled himself up against the headboard of his bed and let his eyes adjust to the darkness of predawn.

“Daryl, you okay?” his voice was low and rough in his own ears and he cleared it absently. The shadows of Daryl’s face shifted as he licked his lips and nodded mutely.

“You need something?” Rick asked. Daryl shifted where he stood, a hand rising to his mouth so he could chew on the cuticle of his thumb, a nervous habit Rick had observed more than once.

Seeming to come to a decision, Daryl took a couple of steps into Ricks room, bringing him to Ricks bedside.

Rick let his eyes travel over him, taking in the way his loose singlet was threadbare and hung off his body, accentuating the dramatic V of his torso and the width of his tense shoulders. He was wearing a pair of boxers and Rick tore his eyes away from them and back up to Daryl’s face.

Daryl’s eyes were on Ricks face, they looked dark and glittery in the darkness. His thumb was between his lips and Rick saw the quick flash of teeth as he bit down on it. Rick watched as Daryl seemed to steel himself for something, his hand dropping from his mouth and he squared his shoulders, jutting his chin forward a little as though challenging Rick.

When he did move, it was fast as a snake striking. Rick barely had time to realise the sudden shifting of shadows was Daryl darting forward towards him before hands clasped either side of Ricks face and there was the pressure of a mouth against his own.

Rick reared as though attacked, and for a second he thought he was. Daryl’s grip on his face held him in place as Daryl’s mouth moved clumsily over his. Within a heartbeat Rick realised what was happening and felt his hands rise up to hold onto the stretch of Daryl’s torso where he bent towards him.

The kiss wasn’t elegant, Daryl was clumsy and a little off centre. When Rick opened his eyes he caught a glimpse of the younger man’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and a frown knotting his brow. When Rick didn’t pull away or hit him, Daryl eased his assault, his lips softening against Ricks as he tried to figure it out.

Rick guided him, his lips moving gently over Daryl’s thin mouth, one hand raising to card into his soft hair and cup the curve of his skull. Daryl seemed to melt against him, his spine going loose as he sunk onto his knees on Ricks bed.

When Rick moved his head gently to the side so their mouths could slot easier together Daryl let out a noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. The sound raced through Ricks body, settling hotly in his groin.

Daryl wasn’t a skilled kisser, there was something in the way he let Rick guide him and the way his breathes came out shuddery and hot against Ricks face which made him wonder if Daryl had done much of this, the thought warred in him, possessive pleasure and a strange sadness at Daryl’s life which he had only caught glimpses of.

Hot fingertips brushed against the hair on Ricks torso, barely there touches before they returned with more confidence, roving over Ricks skin, following patterns Rick couldn’t determine and hesitating briefly before skating over the puckered scar on his side.

Ricks own hand fisted in Daryl’s loose singlet as his other hand slipped out of his hair and traced the curve of his long neck, down across the swell of shoulder and to the curve of his ribcage, where he let his hands take in the whipcord leanness of his body.

Pulling his mouth away from Daryl’s, Rick kissed the mark above his lip and trailed kisses across his cheek to nuzzle behind his ear. He buried a kiss beneath the long hair he nosed out of the way as his hand cupped the opposite side of Daryl’s angular face, tilting it how he wanted, hot pleasure swelling at how Daryl moved where Rick wanted him to with a liquid fluidity which sucked the breath from Ricks lungs. Daryl’s head lolled back and a shuddery breath escaped his mouth.

The hazy heat of the moment evaporated suddenly when Ricks hand gripped the slim waist and a pained breath escaped Daryl. Rick pulled back, ice running through his veins as he took in the younger man crouched on his bed, looking shockingly young in the dark with his eyes wide and mouth kiss flushed.

His throat was tight as Rick held back the shocked breath which rose up. Carefully he moved Daryl away from him and back on his hunches on Ricks bed. A confused frown was spreading across Daryl’s face and Rick wanted to shy away from looking at it, guilt clawed at him and he had to stop his hands from shaking as he eased Daryl back even further.

“It’s just a bruise, ‘m fine.” Daryl said, letting Rick push him away. Rick shook his head, his jaw wanting to clench shut but he made himself talk.

“You don’t have to thank me like this.” The words tasted acidic in his mouth and the brief widening of Daryl’s eyes before they narrowed dangerously made a knot forming in his stomach writhe.

“What’re you saying?” Daryl’s voice was low and hard, the fire Rick had seen as he wrestled with the hospital security was back, but it wasn’t sparking hot and wild like it had then, it burned low and dangerous. Rick swallowed frustration and shame, pushing aside the dark feeling of sadness that was the cop in him, whispering that _Daryl didn’t know._

Rick had seen transference before, had seen people who had never known a moment of kindness latching on to the first person who treated them with an ounce of kindness. He’d gone to a seminar in Atlanta two years ago, despite Shane scoffing, and they’d talked about issues like this.

Rick was sixteen years Daryl’s senior and had known Daryl was vulnerable, no matter how tough he acted, no matter how defensive and wary he was. No matter how much shit Daryl had fought his way through, there was a vulnerability in him, because his heart was wide open, begging for a scrap of kindness.

Rick should have handled it all better, instead, he’d let himself be distracted by his strange beauty, hard angles and wild elegance, his rough charm and attitude and he’d slipped under Ricks skin and wormed his way into Ricks thoughts. He _liked_ Daryl, he was a bright spot in the dull, empty life Rick had found himself living.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Rick said, voice low and eyes fixed on Daryl’s. He wanted to shy away when they narrowed further and Daryl’s face seemed to freeze with rage. He recoiled from Rick, shoulders becoming a tense line.

“I ain’t a whore.” He spat. His backwoods accent as thick as treacle, thicker than it was when he was comfortable, when it was a gentle burr in his low voice. This was like acid, torn from him with the rigor of disgust which twisted his face before it blanked completely.

“I didn’t say you were-” Rick started, but Daryl was up off the bed, body shaking with anger he held back as he scoffed loudly, the noise deafening in the deep quiet of the predawn.

“The fuck you didn’t.” He spat. Rick rose, painfully aware of how little he was wearing, he felt vulnerable in just his briefs, the scar he didn’t like looking at was on show and he felt like his nudity was doing nothing to help ease this situation.

He lifted his hands in a placating gesture, like he did with angry perps. “Daryl. Listen to me. I’m sorry,” He began, Daryl scoffed again loudly, shaking his head as he turned and walked out of the bedroom into the warm shadows of the living room. “You’ve barely slept, you’re worried about your brother. This isn’t appropriate and -.” Rick reared back when Daryl turned on him unexpectedly.

“Fucking _appropriate_?” he spat “I call bullshit. Don’t tell me you ain’t been looking at me like you have, I ain’t blind.” Shaking his head, he turned away from Rick, heading to the couch and where he’d piled his belongings on the floor beside it, “I’m fucking stupid though, a straight cop.” The last was whispered, laced with a laugh which twisted along Ricks nerves.

“Daryl. stop it.” he tried again, watching as he pulled on his loose t-shirt in one angry movement, “Its late.” he pleaded.

“I’ll be fine, officer.” Daryl’s voice was twisted with a mocking snark Rick had only witnessed a shadow of before. He didn’t sound at all like the Daryl Rick had gotten to know and like, this was the kid that had gotten arrested and ended up on community service, this was the kid with a brother in hospital because he’d been high and dumb and Daryl had just been resigned when he’d let that slip.

He might not recognise the kid in front of him, but he knew Daryl, had shared late-night meals with him for weeks and _that_ Daryl was tired and sad, hurt because Rick couldn’t be a responsible adult and say what he meant without hurting the younger man.

Daryl pulled on his jeans and shoved his feet into his boots, grabbing the rest of his things and shouldered past Rick, heading for the door.

“Damnit Daryl! just Listen.” Rick intercepted him, standing between him and the door, ducking his head to try and meet Daryl’s lowered eyes. He felt some hope build when Daryl didn’t push past him, just remained still and waited for Rick to continue. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I have been looking at you.” surprise flashed across Daryl’s lowered face and he chanced a glance up at Rick before angling his face away, a muscle in his jaw twitching from how tightly he’d clamped his teeth together.

Rick let his eyes linger, just for a moment, taking in the strong lines of his throat, the strangely delicate angles of his face and his smooth skin. “I shouldn’t have. Hell Daryl, I’m a lot older than you,” Rick shook his head, running his hands over his face, suddenly exhausted, “I’ve just gotten divorced, my life is a mess right now and I shouldn’t have been doing any of it.” Daryl was looking at him from under his fringe, his expression blank. Rick sighed, “Look, stay the night, I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow to see your brother.”

A tense minute stretched between them but eventually Daryl nodded. A small bob of his head as he clutched at the clothes in his hands. Rick bit back the sigh of relief and smiled weakly at the younger man. “Thank you.” he breathed.

Daryl cast an assessing look over his features, meeting his eyes for a moment as though reading something in them before he nodded again and turned around, setting his things down beside the couch and throwing himself back onto it carelessly.

Rick crossed back to his own room, letting his eyes linger on the tense line of Daryl’s back when he paused in the doorway before purposely crossing to his bed and sinking back down, leaving the door open, just so he could see the dull glow of the lamp and hear if Daryl decided to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the last chapter. It, like the whole fic, is unbeta'd so apologise for that.  
> I hope you all like it! and I want to thank you all for your lovely comments, Kudos and support <3

 

The next morning was tense. They skirted around the previous night without a word; Rick bustled around the kitchen, looking for something he could feed his unexpected visitor as Daryl remained on the couch, blanket pulled up to his chin and held there with an absent fist as he watched Rick move.

It was past noon when Rick handed a bowl of cereal to Daryl who accepted it with a nod and a twitch of his lips as he sat up, slumped in the corner of the couch, his long limbs seeming to fold up easily.

Rick ate perched on the edge of a dining table chair, shooting looks at the younger man whenever he thought he could get away with it. The quiet wasn’t tense, but Rick couldn’t help how his mind strayed to the kiss, picking it apart and dwelling on it as he chewed dispassionately and adapted to having someone in his space again.

Memories of their kiss came to him in disjointed half-second moments, the curve of Daryl's torso under his hand, the softness of his skin, the breathy noises which had escaped him.

Rick wanted to hate himself for it, wanted to feel disgust that he’d let his little obsession with the younger man cause such a mess; but another part of him roared with hunger, it was a greedy, desperate part of him that called to claim the boy, to take what he’d offered the night before, to lay possessive hands over his body and mark him up so everyone knew who’d laid claim.

The cereal didn’t taste like anything and he ate it without emotion. Daryl finished his quickly, like he always did, and Rick watched fondly as he lifted the bowl to his lips and drank the milk that remained.

“I’ll take you to the hospital. Do you want a shower or anything? We can go via yours for a change of clothes if you want.” Rick asked after he finished the last mouthful of his bland breakfast. He watched how Daryl plucked at the blanket wrapped around him. Eventually he looked up at Rick.

“I don’t need nothing.” He rumbled lowly. Rick nodded.

“Do you want a shower?” Rick repeated, not knowing why. He kept his eyes from darting to the bathroom, as though looking at the flat white surface of the door will be enough to conjure an image of Daryl bathing.

Daryl looked towards the door, chewing on his lip as he thought about it before shaking his head. Rick nodded, feeling awkward as he stood up, collecting the bowls and dumping them in the kitchen sink and made his way around the apartment, sorting himself out for the day, listening to Daryl do the same.

 

The drive to the hospital was strained, not tense exactly, and not awkward. It was as though Daryl had blocked the whole previous night from existence, ignoring it ever happened and leaving Rick reelling on how to behave.

Rick should feel relieved, should be thankful there didn’t seem to be any irreconcilable damage done, beside Daryl retreating back into himself a little, reverting back to before he was really comfortable in Rick's presence; but he found a small seed of disappointment buried in his guts, twisting them up as it grew.

He knew he should be relieved the younger man saw the flaw in last night’s clumsy, ill-fated kiss and had moved on from it, but knowing how he should feel didn’t make it easer.

Some part of Rick wanted Daryl to really want it, to see more than just the old kind cop who gave him food. Maybe see something in Rick like what Rick saw in him.

He couldn’t help imagining what could have happened if he’d kept going, if he’d pulled Daryl into his lap and kissed across his collarbones, had run his fingers all over that body and taken him to pieces.

Pulling into the hospital carpark he shook the thoughts from his head and looked at his passenger. Daryl was staring out the window, thumbnail between his teeth as he frowned at something, not having noticed they’d stopped.

“Security might remember you. Want me to come up, just in case?” Rick asked and watched as Daryl thought about it before nodding, shooting a quick glance at Rick before pushing open his door and climbed out.

Rick followed suit, trailing behind the younger man as he walked into the hospital with an ease which suggested he was familiar with the rabbit-warren layout of the place.

Daryl had a confident swagger to his step in here, as though daring people to look at his old, worn clothes and bruised face. He held his chin up and shoulders back, a blank but challenging look on his face which discouraged anyone from trying to stop him. Rick found himself once more curious about the life the younger man lived, how it had made him so mercurial and sharp eyed.

Rick hung back and watched Daryl talk to the nurse at the  recepton area, their voices lost in the general hum of a hospital. When they were done, Daryl turned to face Rick and seemed to pause and study him for a moment, before nodding him on towards the elevators.

In the elevators Daryl seemed to shrink a little, huddled in the corner his eyes darted from Rick to the climbing numbers on display. When Rick caught his eye, he smiled at him and felt some tension loosen when Daryl returned it, a small quirk of his lips and something warm in his eyes which he hid when  the doors pinged and he ducked his head, his fringe fell forward to shield him.

Rick stepped out onto the floor, eyes looking in either direction down the corridors. Daryl nodded minutely to the left and together they headed that way.

Rick's hand shot out and stilled Daryl before he’d even fully recognised the figure emerging from one of the rooms. Daryl froze, attentions jumping to Rick to see what had stopped him, before looking back down the corridor at the two men now standing in front of one of the doors, heads bowed together as they spoke.

Shane was an achingly familiar sight. His uniform was carefully pressed and sat snugly on his large frame, like it always had. His head of dark hair shone in the harsh florescent lights and he looked so damned _healthy_.

Rick felt familiar irritation rise in his throat, because he could barely sleep five hours straight, was working night shifts and suffering through exhausting physiotherapy each week and he was _tired_ all the time, an exhaustion which went beyond sleep deprivation and settled deep in his bones.

The only times it hadn’t weighed him down in the past few weeks was when he was eating leftovers with Daryl at his desk. The thought surprised him, it made something hum in his chest and he wanted to sit down and pick it apart, inspect it from every angle.

Shane saw them when he and Parrish turned towards the elevators. His large frame seemed to freeze momentarily. His eyes went wide and he jerked slightly at the sight of Rick.

“What are you doing here?” the question came rushing out of Rick's mouth without checking in with his brain and he bit back anything else that might try to escape.

Shane looked blindsided, his mouth shaping words he didn’t articulate before he shook himself and frowned at the pair of them, his eyes darting towards Daryl curiously.  

“Making an arrest. Why’re you here?” Shane's voice was so agonisingly familiar it took Rick a moment to hear what he’d said. Daryl made a low noise beside him. When Rick glanced at him, his eyes were darting from Shane to the room they’d come from.

“Your brother?” Rick asked quietly, barely forming the words but Daryl heard them anyway and nodded his head minutely.

Rick breathed a curse and resettled his weight, hands on hips as he assessed the situation. What was meant to be a simple job of taking Daryl to see his brother, maybe grab a chance to clear things up between them and get things back to normal, or as normal as it has been lately, was now suddenly a whole lot more complicated.

Shane noticed Ricks stalling tactic and narrowed his eyes and turned them to Daryl, who looking particularly young and rough in the harshly bright and clean hospital corridor.

Rick turned his attention to Parrish, ignoring Shane’s large frame as best he could. Parrish was looking wary, his eyes also darting to Daryl, though his glance was more curious than judgemental. He seemed to be doing his level best to appear like an uninvolved bystander as Shane and Rick faced each other for the first time since their explosive argument in Rick's hospital room.

“Parrish,” he greeted with a nod which was returned. “Is there any chance we can get in to see him?” he nodded towards the room they’d just exited.

Parrish looked uncomfortable, his eyes shifting towards Shane who was technically the senior officer. Rick kept his eyes trained on the young blond man.

“What the hell for?” Shane cut in, Rick spared him a quick glance before looking back at Parrish, offering him a smile.

“This is his little brother,” Rick gestured towards Daryl who was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet as though preparing to make a run for it, his eyes flicking between the three police officers in the corridor, “he just needs to see his brother for five minutes. See he’s okay.” He offered Parrish a look, attempting to convey the strength of familial bonds and how Daryl is an innocent party in all of this. “I promise I’ll supervise.”

Parrish looked like he was wavering. He darted another look towards Daryl but Rick kept his eyes firmly fixed on the younger cop.

“Is this the same brother that had to be escorted out last night?” Shane asked, his voice going mean and cutting. Rick shot him a glance but he was focused on Daryl too, dark eyes running over him and his mouth turned up in a mean snarl.

Shane had never been very good at hiding what he thought of people. He was a good cop and a good man, but he didn’t have any qualms in saying what he thought and letting people know when he found them wanting. Rick bit his lip from the instinctual wave of angry words that wanted to pour out of him and took a calming breath to steady his nerves. Readjusting his stance again, remembering at the last minute that he wasn’t wearing his gun belt and hooked his thumb through his belt loop instead

“He wasn’t escorted out. He left of his own volition.” Rick replied calmly. Shane's attention shifted to him and Rick met it.

It was strange how so long can pass without seeing someone, and the moment they reappear in your life it’s like no time had passed. It felt like it was just this morning that Rick had looked across his desk at the other man, his feet up on his drawer as they talked over a casefile, bitter station coffee in matching mugs.

But it had been months since that had last happened. It had been the morning of the shooting when he and Shane had last been so casual and comfortable together. Even before he found out about the affair it had been strained, Shane had been different, high strung and tense. Weighed down by guilt, Rick realised later.

Rick had been groggy and in pain, waking every night from nightmares of a shooting he barely remembered and days spent in a haze of narcotic oblivion.

In the moment when their eyes met, it felt like all that time was crammed together, the haze of the hospital, the rage and hurt lost in morphine and healing flesh. The days and weeks after when he found an apartment he hated and had buddies from the station help move him in, all of them moving around the ghosts of the people that should be there, the huge, gaping spectres of his family and his partner.

And then weeks of loneliness, of the visits from the guys at the station petering out because life got in the way and they all had things to do.

The night shifts where he sat in the nearly empty station doing tedious tasks because even the small amount of human interaction he got from that, was better than sitting alone in his ugly apartment, thinking about swallowing his gun.

Like a gasp into frozen lungs he turned his mind to Daryl; to the awkward, wary boy who was like a stray animal, hissing and angry and so thankful for a morsel of kindness and a scrap of food. Who thawed and bloomed under the gentle attention of the older man, who became loose-limbed and smart-mouthed when he finally became comfortable with Rick.

Rick turned his head and looked at the younger man, let himself take strength from his presence. Daryl’s eyes were narrowed, looking at Shane like he didn’t trust him and was going to run if he took a step towards him. He looked wild and untameable, he looked like every connotation of ‘ _kid from the wrong side of the tracks_ ’ Rick had ever heard. But Rick knew he was more than that, that he was smarter than he seemed, kind-hearted and gentle.

Rick smiled at him and he felt the corners of his eyes crinkle. His smile broadened when Daryl looked at him like he’d gone a little crazy, like he couldn’t believe this situation could end in any way which wasn’t him in trouble.

Rick turned his attention back to Shane, meeting his gaze head on and studied the dark bags under his eyes and the way his broad shoulders were slouched a little.

“Don’t be a bastard Shane, let the kid in to see his brother.” He spoke with calm authority, the certainty threading through his words and he felt like himself again for the first time in forever; like the cop he was proud of being and the man he’s always strived to become.

Shane’s face twisted but he saw something in Rick’s expression or heard it in his words and jerked his head in a nod, darting a look at Parrish before turning on his heel and striding towards the nurse’s station at the far end of the corridor.

Back when they were partners, Rick would have assumed he’d gone to flirt with one of them, to flash them his winning smile and whisper sweet nothings in their ear until they were putty in his hands.

He wondered vaguely, in the back of his mind, if he was going to do that now. If he was still the player he’d always been, even after he’d shacked up with Ricks wife.

Shaking the thought away, Rick turned back to Parrish who was nodding them in, looking resigned.

Daryl waited for Rick to move before he accepted the invitation; striding ahead of Rick and shouldering his way into the room.

Rick paused before entering the hospital room. He hadn’t planned on chaperoning Daryl’s visit, or facing the brother of the young man he’d kissed last night; and he found himself suddenly wary of entering the room.

Covering his hesitation, he offering Parrish a thankful nod and accepting the uncomfortable smile he got in reply. Both of them avoiding looking towards Shane, further down the hall.

Rick knew he’d committed him to supervising the visit, and while he was off duty and technically restricted to desk duty, he did know and respect the rules they had to follow. They were there for a reason and he needed to shove any misgivings he might have about this whole situation to the side.

Daryl might be his friend and he might only be getting this visit with his brother because Rick stuck his neck out for him, but the visit did need to follow some basic protocol.

Steeling himself, Rick pushed into the room. It was dimly lit but he could see clearly in the murky light. Daryl was standing beside the single hospital bed, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he listened to the man on the bed.

Even in the poor lighting Rick could tell he was pale. His blunt, tough face had the powdery, ill appearance of someone who belonged in hospital. The man’s broad form looked strange on the small hospital bed, like it was going to break under the strain of containing him.

When Rick closed the door with a soft click behind him, two pairs of blue eyes fixed on him. Daryl’s brother curled his lip up and bared his teeth as he focused hazy eyes on him. When he spoke, his voice was rough as gravel and held an off-note Rick suspected came from a long-ago damaged voice box, it was a trait he’d heard once or twice before.

“The hell are you?” His voice was slurred but had the same backwoods accent which coated Daryls words. Daryl shifted beside the bed.

“Merle, shut up.” Daryls accent seemed thicker when he spoke to his brother and even in those few words he came across as more confident, like he didn’t have to think about what he said or how he said it. The barely-there hesitation before he spoke was a trait Rick had noticed in the other man, it had been obvious when they’d first started to get to know each other and it had slowly faded away over the weeks of late-night meals together, only occasionally slipping back in.

“Shut the fuck up, baby brother.” Merle said absently, “You a cop?” he asked Rick.

“Yeah he is. He got me in here.” Daryl jumped in before Rick could say anything. Merle ran an assessing eye over Rick, his lip curling up again and he sucked in his breath through his teeth in an obnoxious whistle.

“Is that right?” he slurred. Rick felt himself bristle with the unsaid insinuations. Daryl obviously heard the same thing because he shifted his weight and glared at his brother.

“Shut the hell up, man.” He growled, voice angry and sharp. Rick looked at him, in the dim light it was hard to tell but he thought there might be a blush forming on his high cheekbones.

Daryl ducked his head so his hair fell in his face and Rick turned his attention back on the man in the hospital bed and was met with two hazy blue eyes studying him.

“Don’t mean nothing my it.” Merle said lowly, pale eyes pinning Rick.

“I’m here in a supervisory capacity.” Rick said, keeping his voice calm and level, “You are under arrest and you have five minutes with you brother.” With that, Rick planted himself at the door and crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes wander around the room, giving them the pretence of privacy.

After a moments quiet, there was the low murmur of voices which Rick purposely didn’t listen in on. Merle was apparently the talker in the family, his voice was a low rumble in the quiet room. When Daryl spoke it was in short, sharp sentences which cut over his brother and came out like a hissing, annoyed cat.

Rick glanced down at his watch occasionally, keeping an eye on the time. When the hand clicked over to six minutes he nodded to himself and shifted where he stood against the door. Looking up, both blue eyes were once again on him and he let his eyes drift from one to the other.

There wasn’t much similarity between the brothers apart from their eyes, and even they were different, Daryl's were warm and a deep blue, heavy lidded and sharp. His brother’s eyes were sharp too, he could tell that even with them hazy with medication, but they were a cool, icy blue which offered no warmth or gentleness.

“Time's up.” He said unnecessarily. Daryl bowed his head to his chest in a nod and turned his attention back to his brother. A silent communication passed between them and he nodded to him before striding towards the door. Rick let him proceed him out the door and felt Merles eyes on him until the door closed behind him.

In the corridor, Shane and Parrish were standing silently together. Shane was slouched against the far wall and Parrish held his notebook in front of him as he shifted through the pages.

When Rick and Daryl emerged he closed the book and looked up, offering Rick a smile which was returned. Rick waved Daryl on ahead of him towards the elevators and turned to leave without a word said to the other men.

Rick and Daryl remained silent as they waited for the elevator and rode it down to the ground floor, weaving through the bustle of the general entrance and into the warm afternoon sun. Rick squinted against it and looked towards where he had parked the car.

“Thanks for getting me in there.” Daryl said with a jerk of his head back towards the building.

“It’s no problem.” Rick replied. Daryl’s lips twisted.

Daryl squinted across the sea of cars in the carpark, a dark look on his face. His brow was furrowed and his jaw looked clenched. When Rick scuffed his boot on the ground and turned to him, Daryl flicked his eyes towards him.

“I’ll give you a ride wherever you need to go.” Rick offered, Daryl turned his head to look at him, his blue eyes assessing as they ran over Ricks form, taking in every detail. Rick allowed the scrutiny, watching in return, letting himself study the fine bones of his face and the delicate structure of his throat and the peak of his collarbone out of the stretched neck of his shirt.

Eventually, Daryl came to some kind of decision. His eyes flicked away, shifting to the ground as he ducked his head and pulled his lip into his mouth and chewed. His throat worked before he spoke.

“I’ll go home.” He said lowly. Rick nodded, turning on his heel and heading towards his car.

The drive was mostly done in silence. Daryl occasionally voicing a direction but otherwise remained slumped low in the passenger seat, one foot up on the seat as he angled himself towards Rick.

He could feel the younger man’s gaze on him as he drove and when Rick turned to him, Daryl didn’t shy away from meeting his gaze.

“Last night…” Daryl said eventually, the sunshine coming in through the window at a hard angle, making him glow a little and gilding him in gold. Rick looked back towards the road before darting a look at him as he resettled his hands on the wheel, concentrating on the road as a sick feeling rose in his throat.

“I get why…” Daryl trailed off. Rick looked at him and saw a muscle in his jaw clenched as his gaze moving away from Rick, “I mean, fuck. Look at me.” He said lowly. Rick opened his mouth but Daryl cut him off.

“I’m sorry I…” the words sounded like they were torn from his throat, his accent heavy and slow as the words were pulled forcefully out of him. Rick shook his head

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Daryl.” Rick cut in. Daryl shot him an ugly look

“I know what I am.” There was a finality and a deep seeded acceptance to that sentence which made anger and frustration rise up in Rick as he watched Daryl turn to look out the window.

Rick couldn’t help but stare at the striking lines of his face, the way the sunlight played with his hair and revealed flashes of red and gold in the deep brown. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he had to say something.

“Daryl,” he said into the heavy silence, “I wanna have you, in every way you’d let me.” He spoke lowly, the words seeming to fill the car, weighty with possibility and promise and meaning more than just sex, “I wanna do things to you…” Rick shook his head, cutting that thought of. “You are so young, and so beautiful and so fucking good. You deserve so much more than a tired, injured, beaten up old man who has a kid he barely sees and an ex-wife he hates a little.” He stopped the car at a red light and turned in his seat to face Daryl, “Seeing you at work is the highlight of my week, I don’t wanna fuck that up because I let you make a bad decision.” Rick said, eyes pinning Daryl in his seat.

Slowly, Daryl raised his chin challengingly, his blue eyes narrowed. “You ain’t my daddy or my parole officer. You don’t get to choose what the right decision is for me.”

The car behind them honking its horn saved Rick from having to reply, he felt like he had whiplash, like Daryl had pulled the carpet out from beneath him. Arousal and happiness bubbled in his stomach unpleasantly and left him not knowing how to feel.

 

When they pulled up to Daryl’s house Rick looked around, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. A mosaic of the lower-income houses he’d been called to over the years merged together and all seemed the same in all the ways that mattered, and he was expected another one in the line-up. In some ways he was right.

The Dixon property was a small, tired building on the outskirts of town, slowly being reclaimed by the woods which butted up to the property line. There were car parts strewn across the property and the windows were dark and had torn and broken fly screens in the frames.

Looking at his passenger, he saw Daryl looking towards the woods, the house completely ignored. The late sunlight was diffused by the overhead trees and speckled as it landed against his cheek and ran down his throat before getting lost in the hollows of his collarbones.

“I’ll see you at the station, right?” Rick asked when Daryl turned his eyes to face him. Daryl’s lip quirked at the corner and he rested his hand on the release for the door. His eyes mapped over Rick, taking their time to inspect him and the moment stretched between them as thick as molasses, seeming unreal.

Ducking his head as he released the door and pushed it open, he spoke to his lap, his voice low and heavy, “Of course.” With one last glance at Rick, Daryl pulled himself out of the car with a fluid roll of his lean body, closed the door with a bang and strode off towards the tree line without a backwards glance.

Rick watched him go, taking in the way his body was bronze and gold in the sunlight, his hair a mess of dark and light over his broad shoulders and worn, soft clothes which hung off his strong frame.

His lean, long-limbed figure disappeared between the trees and Rick darted a look between them as though he could catch one last glimpse of him. Rick shook his head to himself, resettled his hands on the steering wheel, feeling the rough, hard texture under his palms and reversed the car out of the property.

He cast a glanced back at the broken looking house one last time before pulling the car away with the crunch of gravel under tires.

 

He didn’t know why, but Rick was tense for the rest of the day. He wandered from room to room in his apartment, the silence seeming deafeningly loud in a way it never usually was. He made sandwiches for him and Daryl slowly and methodically, laying the ingredients out carefully and placing each part onto the bread with excruciating care.

It was like living in anticipation for something he didn’t know. Nerves stretched out and on high alert with no reason on earth for it.

The restlessness became too much. When the sun sank below the buildings he dressed for work, grabbed the sandwiches and keys and left an hours earlier than usual.

Chatted with some of the late shift he’d worked with over the years, he found his eyes straying to the clock mounted high on the wall as he sipped the bitter station coffee

When the shift changed, Rick sat himself at his desk and thumbed distractedly though the files on his desk. Attention drifting at every noise and blip in routine. Margaret chatted happily, one hip cocked against his desk when she refilled her coffee cup without asking.

The slog through the work was hard going, the clack of his own typing grated on his nerves and he couldn’t help his eyes from darting to the clock in the corner of his screen every couple of minutes, making the time stretch out endlessly.

When the usual time for Daryl’s rounds came and went, Rick gave up any pretence of working and slumped low in his seat and cradled his coffee cup to his chest.

Ricks head shot up when he heard the squeaky wheel of the cleaners trolley an hour after Daryl usually came around. The guy pushing the trolley was a thickset Hispanic man who was bobbing his head along to music playing in his headphones. He looked surprised to see Rick at his desk and offered him a jerk of his chin in greeting.

Rick mimed removing the headphones and the man did so, frowning at him.

“Where’s Daryl?” Rick called across the room. The man dark eyebrows rode up.

“White-boy?” a shrug “I dunno man. Called in sick or something.” He shrugged his broad shoulders again and pulled his headphones back on.

Rick nodded and slumped back in his chair, biting back the long sigh that wanted to escape.

Daryl’s replacement was noisy, he danced along to whatever was playing in his headphones and he knocked the furniture out of the way and banged the wastepaper baskets down with little finesse. Rick watched him work absently, nodding goodbye tiredly when he left.

 

By the time the first of the early shift entered, Rick had barely made any headway in his work and had switched to decaf after his fifth coffee made him feel shaky and strung out like a junkie, twitching at every unexpected sound.

His eyes stung with grainy exhaustion as he drove home. He made the climb up the stairs and through the building as though in a daze, not bothering to turn on the lights when he entered the apartment and make his way through the space from memory; undressing with clumsy fingers before climbing into bed and sinking heavily into the pillows.

 

When the knock came, it pulled him from unconsciousness like surfacing from mud. Rick clawed his way out of bed and glanced blearily at the face of his watch on his bedside table, before stumbling his way to the entrance.

Opening the door, Rick felt relief flooding through him at the sight of Daryl slouched against the opposite wall, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. His boots had mud caked to them and his clothes hung limply from his body.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked. Daryl looked up, focusing blearily onto him as he pulled himself of the wall and towards Ricks door.

“You ever gonna fuck me?” he asked in a slow, slurring rumble. His backwoods accent especially thick under the haze of what smelt like cheap whiskey. Rick cast a quick glance down the corridor in case any of his neighbours were listening, before stepping back with a sigh and ushering Daryl in.

“You’re drunk.” He stated, just for something to say, maybe to distract the boy from what he’d clearly come to Ricks place to discuss. “How did you even get into the building?” he asked as he closed the door behind Daryl.

Daryl shrugged, shooting a lopsided smirk at Rick as he shuffled into the main area of the apartment. He turned with more grace then a drunk should possess and met Ricks eyes.

“So are you?” He challenged.

“Am I what?” Rick asked. He was tired and his side hurt but he couldn’t deny that some part of him liked having Daryl in his home. smirking and relaxed with his shoulders loose and body curving enticingly, like his bones worked differently to most people, more fluid and elegant hidden by clomping heavy boots and dirty clothes.

“You gonna fuck me?” Daryl repeated as he sat on the arm of the couch, facing Rick and bracing his weight with his arms, so the exposed muscle bunched and flexed appealingly and betraying his strength and capability.

Looking at Daryl, so comfortable in Ricks small, impersonal home, Rick didn’t want to turn him away. He didn’t want to scare off the best part of his day and be left alone. It was selfish and he knew that, but he liked Daryl and wanted to keep him. Even though he knew it wasn’t what was best for the younger man.

“You said it yourself, man. You want to.” Daryl pushed, licking his thin lips and Rick followed the movement, caught by the striking, unconscious gesture. He was attractive in ways which suggested he didn’t know it, had never been told just quite how remarkable he was.

“Daryl,” Rick began, “you’re drunk and I’m tired.” He said, holding his hand up when Daryl scoffed explosively. “I do… want you. but not right now, not when neither one of us will enjoy it.” he raised his voice slightly to make sure he was heard.

Daryl let his eyes rove over Rick, a more daring look than Daryl had given him before, this one was heavy with possibility and intent and Rick basked in it for a moment, in the desire of the attractive younger man who could do so much better than a washed up cop in his forties.

Daryl’s lips curled up and he boldly placed a hand on his groin, framed neatly by his wide spread legs.

“I’d enjoy it fine.” He said in his low voice. Rick let his gaze turn hot and forceful.

“Not as much as I’d make you when I wasn’t tired.” Ricks voice was low and dark, heavy with the things he hadn’t let himself want, the hundred things he’d not wanted to admit he’d thought about doing to the younger man. Daryl bit at his lip, chewing on it as his eyes went wide and surprised before falling hooded and dark as he bobbed his head sharply at Rick.

Rick smiled, pushing the hot hunger aside as best he could now that he’d acknowledged it, now that he’d let it rise to the surface.

The moment stretched between them before Rick turned on his heel and crossed to his room. Turning back, he found Daryl’s attention still fixed on him.

“I’m going to bed, its late and I only just got home. You can sleep here for the night, or you can let yourself out.” He waited for a nod of acknowledgment from Daryl, before entering his room and slipping under the tousled covers, leaving the door ajar.

His skin seemed to buzz, alive with the understanding that something had changed. The guilt lessened, easing into a vague background knowledge, overshadowed by the sense of things clicking into place. Of a decision having been made and there was no other choice but to run with it, embrace it in its entirety until Daryl realised he could do better. But that was a problem for the future, right now, he felt alive despite the tiredness which pulled him under.

After a moment, he heard Daryl’s footsteps move around the other room and the click of the bathroom door. Rick listened for any sound from the younger man, holding his breath so he could hear the softer pad of socked feet.

This time, Rick didn’t say a word when Daryl appeared in the doorway. Though he knew Daryl could see Rick was awake and watching him, he kept still and watched Daryl approach on cautious steps, circling the bed to the empty side and freezing there.

Rick rolled over, the movements of the sheets loud in the quiet, and pulled up one corner of the covers in invitation. The dark shape of Daryl slipped into the bed and let Rick place the blanket over him.

The sharp bite of mint replaced the smell of cheap whiskey and it blended easily into the vague smell of his bedroom. Their combined breathes were loud in the darkness until Rick forced himself to unwind and closed his eyes against the vague shape of Daryl in the dark.

Concentrating, Rick let himself slowly relax and sink into the pillows. Daryl’s warmth became comforting and he realised with a jot that he’d missed sharing his bed, he’d missed having someone beside him in the dark, just a hands-span away.

With that last thought, he sunk into sleep, listening to Daryl’s breaths as they slowly evened out.

 

Reality and dreams blurred, all Rick knew was that there was hot, damp skin under his hands and the smell of sweat and musk in his nose. His lips brushed hair as he kissed down the line of a neck, mouthing at the hot skin as his hips ground forward into the warm solid pressure in front of him. There was a gasp and the hot skin under his hands shuddered as he worked forward and Rick chased the sound, drawing himself up into consciousness by it.

His grip on Daryl had to be bruising, and he felt a coil of possessive want at the thought. Sweat dampened the hair at Daryl’s neck and there was a high flush across his skin when Rick pulled back enough to see him. His mouth was loose around heavy pants and his broad chest heaved with each breath.

Pulling away, cold air crept between their hot bodies and made him shudder in a different way. Daryl cursed, one hand fisting in the pillow beside his head. Rick moved away further, pulling himself out of the bed and away from the sprawled, flushed form in his sheets.

He took a shaky step back and tried to get his bearings as his eyes moved hungrily over Daryl’s exposed skin, it looked warm and golden in the dim light which came through his closed curtains. There were scars and the curves of muscles shifting in the shadows, his strong body shifted to turn to Rick and the sheet slipped down, revealing the fabric of his boxers, held close to his skin and showing of the curve of his hip and the swell of his groin.

“I swear to god Rick, if you have a fucking crisis right now, I will gut you.” Daryl’s voice was even rougher with sleep and arousal. There was a flush his on his cheeks and trailing down his torso, drawing Rick’s attention down the long column of his throat and down the broad, toned chest, pausing briefly at his collarbones which stuck out sharply beneath his skin.

Rick huffed a laugh, shaking his head at the other man. Licked his lips, he let his eyes look their fill. It felt like the decision he’d made last night settled along his skin. Like all the uncertainty had been building melted away and now a calm settled over him

Daryl huffed an angry breath, pulling himself up as he twisted his legs off the bed and levered himself to standing. His dick bulged proudly against the thin material of his boxers and he didn’t seem to notice, possessed by some confident, cocky spirit which Rick had only glimpsed a few times unaided by violence.

With two long steps Daryl pressed in close to Rick, pushing him against the wall of his bedroom and cupping Ricks stubbled jaw as he leaned in close for a kiss. Doubt rose up like a wave but Rick pushed it down, letting himself sink into the kiss and his hands landed on Daryl’s body.

His grip was sure on the younger man’s skin, his calloused fingers moving over his warm skin as though it was their right. Daryl pressed into every touch, surging up into the kiss and releasing hot little noises as he did.

Rick twisted their position, turning them around and pressing Daryl firmly into the plasterboard wall. Daryl let himself be moved, sighing into Ricks mouth as he was manhandled, letting the wall take his weight and giving himself over entirely to the sloppy, heated kisses as Rick trailed them down his throat, mouthing at his skin and listening to the low noises he made at the contact.

Daryl’s legs slipped apart easily and Rick eased his thigh between them, feeling a shudder run all the way through him when he did. Rick felt greedy, one hand cradling Daryl’s head in a firm grip and the other moving restlessly over the warm skin, fingering across scars and the strong, solid muscles under his hands. Daryl undulated against him, his body torn between rutting against the thigh between his legs and pressing into the hands which mapped every inch of him.

He shuddered all over when Rick tweaked a nipple, and cursed when Rick gripped his hip tightly and urged him to rut harder and firmer against Ricks thigh. Pulling back, Rick watched as Daryl’s eyes closed against the sensation, his lids fluttering and mouth falling slack and open when Rick ground his thigh tight and slow against Daryl’s trapped dick.

His breaths were getting short and loud, wet against Ricks skin when he pulled Rick close to mouth at his collarbone, small noises escaping from his mouth as his movements became erratic and harried. Ricks grip tightened on him, and his own breath went hot when he realised Daryl was getting close.

He ran his teeth along Daryl’s neck, mouthing wetly at his skin and pulled him impossibly closer when his body began to shake, like it was warring with what was happening to it. Daryl’s mouth fell open but no noise escaped when he came, a shudder running all the way through him and his muscles tensing as his orgasm rushed out of him.

Rick watched, eyes hungry for every second of it as Daryl slowly melted from the rigor of orgasm. His body becoming loose and weak as the aftershocks coursed through him.

All of a sudden he became tense, his body going still and taut as a wire. Rick watched as Daryl’s eyes went wide before slamming shut and his face went hot and red, this time not with arousal, but with embarrassment.

Rick raised a hand to cup his face but Daryl moved away, ducking his head and shaking it a little.

“Fucking idiot!” he breathed before throwing his head back against the wall behind him, eyes still squeezed shut as though he couldn’t bare to look at Rick.

Ricks got a hold of Daryl’s head and stilled him before he could bang it back again. Daryl frowned deeply, though still didn’t open his eyes.

“Hey,” Rick urged, his voice low, “what’s the matter?” he asked, his voice coming out like gravel. Finally, Daryl looked at him, his face going pinched and angry looking.

“I just came like a fucking kid,” his blush bloomed brightly. “God, you ain’t gonna wanna fuck me now.” He said around his clenched teeth.

Rick let his head fall forward and breathed a curse into Daryl’s throat. His hands moving to cup Daryl’s hips and caught his breath as his thumbs traced the hollow of his hipbones. They were thin and narrow, and Rick had seen how they moved, fluid, like the rest of him.

Pulling back, Rick breathed in deep to steady the fire that roared in his blood. Moving his hands purposely he let his heavy grip shift from his narrow hips to the gentle swell of Daryl’s ass, gripping it tight he lifted Daryl’s weight, bracing him against the wall as Daryl’s arms and legs wrapped around him instinctively.

Rick felt a noise like a growl build in his chest and he held on tighter at the boy in his arms. Daryl let out a shocked breath and let himself be pulled in close, bodies flush and his limbs intimately twined around Ricks.

Crossing to the bed with two steps, Rick paused before lowering Daryl onto the mattress; taking a second to revel in the feeling of Daryl in his arms, his face tucked into the neck of the younger man.

Daryl let himself be lowered gently onto the bed, unfurling from Rick like a flower, spreading across the bed unconsciously inviting himself to be looked at. He stared up at Rick with wide eyes as he crouched over him and Rick let himself admire.

Daryl was breathtaking laid out on Ricks bed. His dark hair was mussed and tousled, framing his face and highlighting the blue of his eyes.

His broad chest heaved as he breathed deeply, a sheen of perspiration still glittering along the sharp angles of his collarbones and making the rich tan of his skin seem golden.

He sucked in his stomach when Ricks hand trailed down, calloused fingers playing around his navel before sinking lower. Daryl’s head arched backwards, creating a long line from bared throat to pelvis.

Rick wanted to take him apart.

Losing himself in the lines of Daryl’s body Rick kissed and caressed every inch of the younger man, until his skin quivered under his touch and when he looked up, his face was flushed as he panted, loose lipped for breath, eyes squeezed tight as though in pain.

Pulling himself up, Rick gripped one of Daryl’s legs and stretched it towards the ceiling before resting it on his shoulder, exposing him to Ricks hungry eyes. He felt like he was in a haze, time slowing and every quiver and shudder of Daryl’s body amplified in his awareness. Bending close to kiss him, he smiled as Daryl sighed into the stretch and met Ricks lips eagerly.

His strong, calloused fingers reached up to trace the coarseness of Ricks beard across his jaw and down his throat. Rick moved into the touch, pulling away from Daryl’s mouth to chase his fingers and kiss them.

When he looked back at Daryl, his eyes were wide and hazy, arousal blooming bright in his already sated body. Rick wondered if anyone had done this to Daryl, taken him apart with lips and fingers, spreading him open and not wanting to stop for breath.

The way he’d kissed Rick that first night had made him think he was inexperienced in sex, and the way he followed Ricks lead, letting him move his body how he wanted it made something possessive and hungry coil in his guts at the thought that he could be Daryl’s first.

Sitting back on his heels, Rick turned his attention to the small furl of Daryl’s asshole. He ran his dry fingertips over it, pressing at the muscle and feeling it twitch under his touch and Daryl gasped.

Rick smiled at him as he reached across to the bedside table and pulled the drawer open, rifling through the odds and ends he’s shoved there. Pulling out the bottle of lube he met Daryl’s gaze, his attention flicked to the bottle in his hands before returning to Ricks eyes as he licked his lips and bobbed his head minutely in a nod.

Settling between Daryl’s spread legs Rick took his time easing lube into the tight coil of muscle. His own arousal was like an ache of tired muscle, he shifted constantly, fighting it off and sinking into the hot tight feeling of it, but his attention remained on the boy beneath him.

When he pushed into Daryl, a breath escaped him in a punched out noise, torn from deep in his chest and hanging in the hot air between them. Daryl’s mouth fell open at the feeling, his body warring between the desire to tense against the intrusion and melt into it.

“Slow.” Daryl whispered, as though talking any louder would shatter him. Rick nodded, sweat beading across his skin. Pushing in slowly, Daryl’s mouth opened around a soundless moan.

They sunk into a rhythm like it was the easiest thing in the world, their bodies rocked together in a tight, hot synergy. Ricks hands slipped over the perspiration which slicked Daryl’s skin and tasted like salt and musk on his tongue.

They shared breath between sloppy kisses and Rick chased the high, cut-off sounds which escaped from Daryl’s throat. It felt like it went on forever and was over in a heartbeat. Their hands ran over each other and met to clasp on the pillow beside Daryl’s head, his fingers slotting between Ricks as he held onto him, as though afraid of bursting apart and getting lost, washed away by the sensations that ran between them.

Daryl’s body convulsed with his orgasm, movement running through his limbs as his mouth fell open around a silent scream, his face crumpling as a hot blush stained his skin from torso to high cheekbones. His breaths were shuddered noises which couldn’t decide if they wanted to be moans or whines.

Rick sunk to his elbows, curling around Daryl as his thrusts turned sloppy and desperate, grinding in deeply as he chased his release.

It crested like a wave. The world freezing in an endless, perfect moment before the wave of sensation crashed down through him, tearing the breath from his lungs in cry as his eyes squeezed shut around the swirls of colour which danced across his eyelids.

He collapsed onto Daryl, their slick skin sliding against each other as Daryl’s cum smeared across their stomachs.

Rick breathed, open mouthed into the skin beneath Daryl’s ear and smiled dazedly as Daryl’s hands traced across the lines of his back, movements lazy and slow.

When the sweat on their skin cooled, Rick rolled to the side, not breaking contact. Tension crept through Daryl’s body and when Rick looked at his face he was biting his lip and a frown was knitting his brows together.

“Hey.” Rick said, his voice like gravel and barely breaking through the heavy, sated quiet of the room. Daryl’s head twitched as though to turn to look at him, but didn’t make it the whole way. Rick huffed and settled onto his side, with a twinge in his healed wound he manoeuvred Daryl’s body onto his side and slotted himself in behind him, bending his knees to rest neatly behind his.

Daryl let himself be moved and when Rick breathed a heavy sigh into the back of his neck, he allowed himself to relax marginally into Ricks hold.

“I’m not letting you go now. I only just got you.” Rick breathed.

Their hands met on his chest and Daryl slotted his fingers between Ricks and squeezed them tightly in his own, holding it to his chest as though Rick was a blanket he could wrap around himself and hold close.

Rick smiled into the sweat damp hair on Daryl’s neck and pressed a kiss there, feeling Daryl sigh, tension melting from his frame as he slipped into sleep, and Rick held him in silence.


End file.
